Wounded
by Rathorian
Summary: There is a darkness inside of us all; a sinister darkness that threatens to consume. When one undergoes such a tragedy, that darkness spreads and seeps into our very souls, into our skin and bones. The darkness never goes away, it only grows. But sometimes - sometimes there are people who are there to guide us through.
1. Fear

_"Being brave isn't about being unafraid. It's about functioning through the fear."_

_ -**Jessica Anderson**_

Everything was leading up to that moment, the momrnt they came blazing through the doors. They came through the steel doors like a tornado, their guns blazing and firing off round after round after round. It wasn't much of a surprise, he would later acknowledge. It was only a matter of time before they finally found him, what with Hattori leading the investigation. But, he hadn't expected a lot of things recently. He hadn't expected his cover to be blown, least of all by the one person who had been benefiting the most from his disappearance. Kogoro Mouri had been more than accepting of all the praise from the cases he had been solving with the help of one Shinichi Kudo -- but this wasn't praise, not this time. No, this time it was blame. Blame for nissing something so simple -- something Kogoro had been known to miss so shouldn't have been a shocker, but it was something Shinichi never should have missed. And so, when the wrong man was arrested and a murder happened again a day later, all eyes turned to a shellshocked Mouri, who cracked under the eyes of the nation.

A week after that televised proclamation, that Shinichi Kudo was in fact alive and still investigating, Conan Edogawa found himself knelt before red faced Gin, a .50 pistol digging into his temple. The blonde assassin's eyes skimmed over him, head cocked to the side in obvious confusion. "Shinichi Kudo," Vodka sneered from behind his partner, lips drawn back in a feral scowl. The shrunken detective merely stared back. "So the poison didn't kill you," Kudo bit his tongue to keep from snarking back. The hit came suddenly, from behind based on the roaring pain when he came to, and the darkness swallowed him.

So yes, everything lead to that moment. The moment that steel door swung open. The moment the guns stopping screaming. The moment dozens of eyes flicked to him. He knew there was no use in hiding, in fighting, in moving; he knew what he looked like, he knew no one would understand -- hell, he wasn't even sure he understood it and he lived through it.

His eyes drifted down to the clothes in his hands, his clothes, Conan's clothes. The fabric bunched between his fingers as he closed his fists around them. He briefly heard Mouri's sharp inhale, the muffled pleas from Megure, but he couldnt bring himself to raise his gaze again. Familiar arms slotted around him, helping him stand on familiar legs that no longer felt like his own.

"S'alright, Kudo." A warm voice whispered into his ear. "Y'er safe now." He was safe. He was himself, though he didn't quite feel like it. His legs were too long, he was too tall. Every step he took was unstable and heavy, his feet scuffing the ground as they refused to lift and move as he wanted them to, his balance off center and foreign. The tan arm of his helper gradually slid from his shoulder to his waist to help steady him. The Osakan lead him from the building Shinichi could only describe as 'gothic', pausing only when the battered male froze in shock. Gin. Vodka. Chianti. Korn. Bourbon. Each and every one of them were being loaded away, stuffed carelessly into the backs of different squad cars. A sense of calm settled over his tired limbs as Shinichi was once again lead away, steps a bit more solid now.

Hattori didn't speak, didn't demand answers, didnt demand his attention. The teen simply helped him to a different squad car and helped settle him into the leather seats in the back and slipped in beside him. The Osakan had always been touchy, sneaking various brushes of contact whenever he could; an arm casually slung over Shinichi's shoulder, a ruffle of hair when he was Conan -- but now the touches were different. The darker teen was more careful, more cautious, but the touches were more frequent. Fingers would find his thigh or wrist or bicep every few moments, as if they were a reminder that Shinichi was truly beside him and not just a fragment of his imagination. Finally Shinichi grabbed the hand when it moved to his wrist again, Hattori startling at the grip but not pulling away either. Their fingers slotted together, palms pressed flat together, and Shinichi gave the smallest of squeezes, all he could manage, his own miniscule way of reassuring his friend that he was okay, that he was safe, that he was there. Neither spoke, there was nothing they needed to say, not yet anyways. There was no urgency between them, just reassuring touch and pressence. When the officer who would be escorting them to the hospital slid behind the wheel, he said nothing either, but Shinichi could see those pittying eyes flashing back to him every so often from the rear view mirror -- it made his skin crawl. 'I don't need your pity' he wanted to scream, but he was too tired, his tongue like lead in his mouth, so he shut his eyes to those looks and leaned further into his friend instead.

Hours later, when the doctors had finished their exams, when his seered flesh had been wrapped and his gashes bandaged, only the Osakan was permitted to see him. At night, when visiting hours were long over and the halls were silent, only the Osakan was there with him. When the nightmares started and he would wake with a scream on his lips and eyes wide with fright, the Osakan was there to clamber into bed with him and chase the ghosts away.

He was safe. He was himself, but he wasn't. The Shinichi Kudo they knew, the sometimes arrogant and conniving detective with a sharp tongue and taunting grin, was gone, and in his place was a shell. He was safe. He was himself, but at what cost?

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_hey guys! i finally am getting around to rewriting this and following the path i want it to take! i hope you guys enjoy this fic!_


	2. Deceit

_"There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting."_

_\- **Buddah**_

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The nightmares came suddenly, crashing into the darkness like a freight train. It was to be expected, the doctors told them. When one undergoes a tragedy, nightmares are often how a person is able to cope. But Shinichi wasn't coping, he was terrified. The nightmares just brought back the memories of them, and he didn't want to remember them. He didn't want to remember those nights, cold and chained to walls that clawed and scraped at his skin until the stone floor was stained crimson. He didn't want to remember the taste of the soiled rag he was gagged with or the screams -- he couldn't tell you if they were his screams or Haibara's though.

No, Shinichi wasn't coping, he was drowning. But they needed his statement, and Hattori couldn't keep putting them off.

"Where is he," it was Ran who finally pushed him into giving the statement though. Her voice was a mix of grief and hate, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the uncomfortable hospital bed. He had been forbidden from leaving the bed without aid, lost in his thoughts more often than not. "Where is Conan," she repeated. Shinichi could make out the scorched clothes of his chibi self clutched tight in her hands. "Where," she whimpered, blood shot eyes cold as they watched her battered childhood friend and would-have-been lover. "He trusted you, looked up to you. Where is he! Why didn't you protect him!" Finally the whisper rose to a scream, her shoes clicking loudly across the tiles as she stormed to his side. If only she knew, if only he could tell her that Conan was laying right infront of her. But that inevitable look of betrayal and hate kept the words choked in his throat. That truth was better left in the darkness of his mind, brewing and festering and twisting, attacking his very being, never to see the light of day. At least, not by Ran. Never by her.

"Ran," Hattori snarled, the Osakan's eyes blazing with cold fury. "S'not Kudo's fault!" He knew the other detective wanted nothing more than to tell the truth, to explain the truth of Conan's disappearance, to explain that Conan Edogawa had never truly existed. When her gaze never flickered away from Shinichi, Hattori stood, moving as if to physically haul her from the room.

"No," he told the other teen softly, watching as Hattori paused mid-step. "We've waited enough, call Megure. I need to give my statement finally." Blue met green in a silent conversation before the Osakan finally sighed and left to do as requested. Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds is all it took to get the inspector in the room, round face flushed and sympathetic. The teen winced while sitting up, Hattori instantly by his side and helping him prop up correctly against the head board.

"He's dead," Shinichi found himself whispering, hands wringing together before settling clasped on his lap."Gin and Vodka," he tried to ignore the way his own voice wavered with their names, "they took turns on the four of us. We tried to stop it, but they gave Conan and Haibara some sort of pill, a poison." The best lie, he reminded himself, sticks as close to the truth as possible. Ran's strangled sob was the only warning he had before she was flying at her. Kogoro's arms were the only thing restraining her, in a dark corner in the back of his mind, he wondered why the drunk was even there at all.

"We didn't find any bodies," he could hear the Inspector's confusion without even having to look.

"Blow torch," he didn't think he needed to elaborate, but he rolled the hospital gown to the side enough to see graphs covering the burns on his chest and shoulder. "You'll have found it by now, among Vodka's things. They disposed of the ashes, I don't know where." Bile rose in his throat, memories of that stinch overwhelming him. His hands curled tight into fists, nails digging into his palm and leaving tiny crescent moon shapped indentations.

Hattori's eyes were on him in an instant, calculating and infuriated, traveling from his face, to the exposed graphs, to his stomach, then back to his face. Shinichi slid back down onto the mattress, rolling to his side, nose nearly brushing the wall. He heard a squeak from Ran and hissed snarl from Hattori, and then steps fading away. Minutes later, Hattori was laying in the bed beside him, there but not touching like he knew Shinichi preferred. "Y'did yer best, Kudo," the Osakan whispered, breath warm on the back of Shinichi's neck. Shinichi wanted to say he knew, that he tried to escape, to protect Haibara, but the words caught in his throat and came out as his own muffled sob.

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**hey guys! second chapter! i hope you all enjoy this chapter and as always, please read and review! let me know what you think or expect to happen!**


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